


S'only you.

by louise97



Series: The Happy Verse (post season 8) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, POV Dean Winchester, s9 divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise97/pseuds/louise97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's not sure about what exactly got them here—the cuddle accident, morning wood issues or the growing tension between them for the past couple of days—yet here they are, and he has no fucking idea what to do (at first).</p>
            </blockquote>





	S'only you.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this my first time writing fic and I sincerely hope it doesn't suck. I appreciate comments and suggestions that might help me improve my writing!  
>    
> This is an attempt on comedy, shmoop, love declarations and just a speck of angst. Enjoy!

"I believe I have feelings for you." Cas looks like a goddamn kicked puppy once he finally blurts it out, staring at the kitchen floorboards like they hold back all the mysteries of the universe, face red as a freaking tomato.

Considering this used to be a warrior of God, it’s a little bit ridiculous—and no, definitely not fucking  _adorable—_ and Dean would laugh if the guy didn’t look so completely miserable. 

When silence gets a little too uncomfortable, Cas starts pulling at his—well, actually Dean's—AC/DC shirt. It looks a number too big for him, so do Sam's old pants, hanging low on his narrow hips. Not like  _that_ matters, anyway. It's not like Dean's been paying a lot of attention to Cas's hipbones and the way they show when he stretches to pick a book from a high shelf and he  _obviously_  never wondered how they'd feel under his fingertips and— _Fuck._

The freaking  _point_  is: Something about Cas right now, about his newfound vulnerability, sets Dean on edge. How fragileCas has become both amazes and scares the livingcrap out of him.

It’s been a month since all heaven broke loose and the angelic _Modern Family_ fell to earth.Cas knocked on the bunker's door in the middle of a wicked thunderstorm a week later. 

 

 

"Dean! You’re not gonna believe who’s here!" Sam called out.

Pathetically enough, that was all it took for Dean to drop everything and haul ass to the map room so fast you wouldn't see him moving. It was probably Charlie anyway, maybe Garth or Jody or any of the few reliable people who knew the bunker's location, whomever but  _him_ _._  

There had beendays - no calls, no postcards, no answer to any of his desperate prayers at night, _no freaking anything_. So yeah, chances _he_  was standing at their doorstepwere shot down to zero, yet Dean found himself running like his life depended on it, like—

Fuck. Fuckity fuck. There he was. _Stupid Fucking Goddamn Angel of the Lord Castiel._

"Holy shit." Dean blurted out. "Holy _fucking_ shit.” 

"Hello, Dean."

And oh, _crap._  Hearing that voice again was like having an electric current run all through his body. By the time Dean's brain could catch up to whatever the hell his limbs were doing, he'd already pulled the angel in a crushing hug. Cas tensed for a second before crumbling into Dean completely, hands fisting in his jacket as if he’d never let go _—_ as if he didn't  _want_  to.

"You son of a bitch. You _stupid—_ " Dean breathed into wet dark hair, taking it all in _—_ the feel of Cas in his arms, the perfect way their bodies fit together, the ragged rise and fall of Cas’s chest while relief and joy and something like  _jesusfuckingchristhe'salivethankyou_  cut their way through Dean until he couldn't even  _think._

Once he managed to put some space between them, Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulders and held him out at arm’s length, just looking him over.

 _No freaky angel injuries. Okay, that's great. He's alright. S'good—_ his brain instinctively took notes, and he hated himself for not being able to just shut it _down._  

His burning need to _protect-care-provide_  didn’t feel right when Cas triggered it - not now, anyway. Not after all those days without so much as a _"Hey Dean, I’m freaking alive"_. It wasn’t okay to even still care, but  _fuck Dean sideways_  if didn’t he care. He cared so damn much it made him dizzy.

"Dean—" Cas started, but the tender way he said his name snapped something feral inside Dean, and before he knew it, he was throwing a left-hook across Castiel's jaw. He didn’t care bones turned to dust were among the side effects of punching a winged version of _Iron Man_ , he just needed to fucking hit the bastard. 

Cas swayed back, looking like he was about to black out, which, _weird_. Still, Dean had an asshole to yell at.

"What the  _fuck_ , Cas?! The hell have you been?! We thought you were dead, that you—that you  _burned_  like the rest of ‘em! And now— _fucking weeks later—_ you think you can just pop up with your stupid face and your stupid voice and your stupid  _everything_ and just say ‘Hello’?!  _Hell_  no!” 

Cas stared grimly at the ground, taking everything as though he thought himself deserving of every unkind word Dean could possibly throw at him.

“ _Look_ at me!" Dean cupped Cas's chin with his hand, forcing blue eyes to meet his own. "You got any idea how much I— _we_ , how much  _we_  worried about you, how much we looked for even a damn clue that could've told us you were friggin’ ali—”

"Wait a minute, Dean." Sam cut in, ignoring the glare it earned him. "Cas, is that…  _blood_?” 

That was the first time Dean really _saw_ at Cas since he showed. He looked like _hell._ His trenchcoat was crumpled and torn, white dress shirt covered in stains, and in all honesty, he _stank._ Dean's heart sank as his eyes registered the dark patch of blood on the angel’s lips, a bruise already starting to bloom at his jaw. He didn't know how, but he'd  _actually_ hurt Cas.

The thought had him scrutinizing his hand. No broken bones, no searing pain, _check._

What the hell.

"I suppose it is.” Cas said, wearily wiping off the blood with the back of his hand.

A lot of questions came up after that, most of them voiced by Sam, given Dean's brain stopped registering new information as soon as the word 'human' started bouncing back and forth.

Later that night, the Winchesters learned about how Metatron tricked Cas and ripped off his grace—Dean made a personal note to shove the fucker’s head up his ass if he ever got the chance—and how Cas woke up human in the middle of nowhere five states away, which made it pretty impossible to just ‘pop up’ without bus tickets and some power-walking.

"Why didn't you call us?" Dean pressed an ice bag to Cas’s jaw, cursing under his breath when the stubborn son of a bitch shook him off in a silent _I can do this myself._  

“My phone was destroyed, and I didn't know your numbers by heart.”

With a pang in his chest, Dean realized  _why_ Cas hadn't answered his calls, not just the ones he made with a phone, but those he made while lying wide awake in bed, eyes swollen and heart heavy. _Cas could no longer hear prayers._

A month coaching Cas into the basics of humanity felt like _years_. Dean was like a clingy mother following her toddler’s every step, ready to catch him before he falls, except saying that out loud was never an option lest he lose his right to have balls. All things considered, Dean would be lying if he said there was nothing fun about it. 

Take movie nights. Somewhere around the 50th joke Cas failed to get, Dean decided it was time to educate him on some good ol' pop culture. They would watch at least four classics a week, and it was awesome to see Cas's face light up whenever he understood a new reference, always accompanied by a cute—ahem,  _amusing_ —little _"Oh"_. It filled Dean with an irrational sense of pride and something else he couldn't quite place. 

The fact fun movie nights turned out to be the first shoe to drop is nothing short of ironic.

Four days ago, they may or may not have fallen asleep over _Legally Blonde_  and woken up the next morning kinda,  _sorta_  cuddling. And _hell_ no, they totallywere  _not_  both sporting morning wood. Not under influence of that predicament, at least. Certainly. _Surely._

Thing is, said ‘predicament’had them practically hiding from each other for the rest of the day. And the day after that. And the one after  _that_.

Dean was initially glad Cas knew enough about human boundaries to keep some distance after pretty uncomfortable events—if you take ‘uncomfortable’ as to a hunter and a former angel who also happen to be best friends waking up to each other’s hard-ons while snuggling on the couch—but as the second day passed by, it started to wear him out.

At some point, he brushed his shoulder to Cas’s—something he’d grown used to do as a sign of reassurance. _You're not alone in this, we’ll pull this off together_ was all he meant by it, not a big deal, really, except instead of an upward pull of lips and a soft look, he just got a flinch from Cas. It was like the very touch had  _burned_  him.

Dean waited until the following day to make a test. He'd hand Cas a book, making sure their hands brushed in the process, then gauge his reaction. He was struck dumb when Cas not only dropped the book, but stormed off the library without a backward glance.

Dean gave Sam a look when he didn't intervene, because really, that just went against his nosy nature.

"Hey, the farther I stay from wherever this is, the better." He said. "You guys always end up figuring your crap out, eventually."

As far as Dean was concerned, 'eventually'pretty much meant  _right the fuck now_ , because  _hell_   _no_ , Cas stopped interacting with him at all this morning and Dean felt like he was freaking _imploding._  

He finally snapped after Sam went out on a beer run. Accusations and rueful questions as to why Cas has been acting like Dean doesn't even existbrought them to this moment, and Dean has _no fucking idea_ what to do.

  

 

"What." He blurts out.  _  
_

"I believe I have feelings toward you."

"Yeah, Cas, I heard you the first time. What do you  _mean_?" 

"I presume you understand perfectly what I mean, Dean." Cas's eyes meet Dean's for the first time today, and _shit_ , will he ever be over how blue they are? 

Cas seems to notice Dean's stricken, tilting his head in that stupid—oh, _fuck it_ , in that _adorable_  way of his. 

Shit. It’s happening again.  _It’s freaking happening again._

This damn warmth is building up in Dean's chest and his stomach is sinking, sensations only freaking Cas has been able to trigger, and Dean obviously never stopped to wonder _why_ that is, because:

1) No way;

2) Cas obviously didn’t get the same vibes;

3)  _No fucking way;_

Except all those assumptions just flew directly out the window, and there's no fucking way Dean can just  _no-fucking-way_ himself out of this. 

Cas steps closer. "That's the reason I've distancing myself from you, Dean." He says, voice so low it sends a jolt of heat rushing to the pit of Dean’s stomach. "I used to be able to conceal these emotions as an angel, but now I seem to have no control of my body’s response to your closeness." Cas lets out a frustrated sigh, face scrunched up in what looks like years of pent-up frustration. Dean fights the urge to just hold him. "I understand you don't have the same intentions toward me and I don't resent you for it. You've been a far greater friend to me than I deserve, and I'll gladly keep things this way. I have no right to ask more of you."

Dean feels like a deer in a freaking _spotlight_ , Cas's stare alone gluing him to the ground.

A moment of green and blue reflecting one another goes by. The entire world is absent to them or they are absent to the world, it doesn’t really matter, because when Cas bites down his bottom lip with an expectant look on his face Dean just _can't fucking take it anymore_.

There’s a rushed—

"Dammit, Cas"

—and he breaks.

Dean pushes Castiel against the counter and kisses him  _and_ _kisses him_ like the connection between their lips is the sole thing keeping him down to Earth, and a beat later Cas is kissing back.

It’s all sloppy tongues and light pulls of hair and Cas tastes  _so_ _good_   and he smells like the vanilla shampoo he'd made Dean buy the other day and he’s the best thing Dean ever had in his arms.

Dean presses their foreheads together when they stop for air, his grip on Cas's hips maybe a little too tight, but he can't  _care_ about that now, he needs to hold on to Cas with all he's got if he wants to get this out. “Cas, what if— _Fuck_.”

_Get a fuckin’ grip, Winchester._

Dean clears his throat. “What if it's the same for me? Y'think we can make this work?”

Cas's eyes widen, whole face taken by surprise, and Dean hates himself for that. Somehow he managed to convince Cas he couldn’t possibly love him, which is pretty absurd considering that besides looking after Sammy, loving Cas with every fiber of his being is the only certainty in Dean’s life.

"I never considered the possibility of you being interested in me. Not in this body." Cas says, but Dean almost misses it, too distracted by the way his fingers are carding through his hair, which is only making things that much _harder_ , if you catch the drift. 

"S’not about liking dudes, which, uh, I kinda do.” Dean feels his cheeks heat up. “It's just… this _thing_ , Cas." He takes one of Cas's hands into his shaky one, placing it on his fluttering ribcage. "Only you do this to me. S'you.  _S’only you_ _._ "

It’s _Cas_. It’s that head tilt thing he does. It’s how grumpy he is in the mornings and the way he refuses to talk until he’s had at least two mugs of coffee. It’s that stupid way his hair is always sticking up in every direction. It’s that stubborn, ridiculous fucking  _pout_  on his face when Dean won’t let him get anywhere near the Impala's trunk arsenal. ( _"Dean, I was an angel for millennia and served Heaven’s army in many wars. I'm positive I can handle human weaponry." "Alright, Chuck Norris, but you’re still not touching a gun until I’m sure you won’t inadvertently shoot yourself into oblivion.”_ ) It’s how he doesn’t seem to be able to just shut up during Sci-Fi movies, correcting  _out loud_  every single detail of  _quantum mechanics_ they got wrong. It’s how his cheeks go red every time he curses after bumping his toe into furniture or dropping something and he downright looks like he'd told a nun to fuck off. It’s the way he stares at Dean like he hung the motherfucking  _moon_ , like he still thinks Dean deserves to be saved, like he believes Dean’s worth falling for. 

"Fucking hell, Cas… There’s not a chick or dude or anyone else in this  _world_  that I’d rather have, that I'd choose over y—”

Cas is kissing Dean before he gets to finish, only this time around it’s hungry,  _greedy_ , and Dean's positively losing his fucking  _mind,_ because the next thing he knows he's lifting Cas onto the counter.

Cas wraps his legs around Dean’s hips, pulling him in, and _holy mother of jesus,_ they're grinding against each other now and it feelsfucking perfect. Chances are Dean’s going to come in his pants for the first time since _High School_ , but he doesn't care. He’s letting himself have this—he’s letting himself have this _with Cas_.

"Holy shit!" If anything could bring Dean back from the desperate state of  _need_ he's in right now, it'd be the sound of his brother’s voice followed by the noise of grocery bags hitting the floor.

They stop dead at the sight of Sam, gaping by the threshold. A long pause of just the three of them staring at each other follows, and _okay_ , this is officially the #1 awkward moment of Dean's _life_ , and that's saying something.

"Honey! You’re home!" Dean quips, but looks like Winchester-brand bullshit humor ain’t gonna cut it, so he tries again. "So—uh. Cas and I, we—" _Were dry-humping in the kitchen because apparently we're super gay for each other and also feelings_ goes unsaid.

Of all imaginable things, Sam _beams_. "About time." 

Dean’s jaw drops, and he can see Cas’s matching reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"I’ll leave you guys to it, just... pick up this mess when you’re done." Sam gestures at the grocery bags. "And, y'know. Try not to be  _loud_." The little shit walks out the door with a winning smirk on his face.

Dean and Cas's eyes meet, they start to  _laugh._ It freaking rocks, actually, because Dean had never heard Cas’s full-blown laughter before, and it’s fucking glorious. 

"What the hell, babe…" Dean chuckles, wiping tears off his eyes. Cas falls silent. "What?" 

"Say that again?" 

"Say what?"

"What you just called me."

Dean grins. "Babe." He pecks Cas's lips. "Babe, babe, babe." Three more pecks, "My baby." One cinamatic kiss.

Dean's arms wrap completely around Cas, cinching him tightly against his body so he can nuzzle the soft skin of Cas’s neck. He'll never get over this—Cas's warmth, his scent, his body pressed up so close. He'd say it's like Heaven, but he's had that tour.

"Yes." Cas says. Dean looks up, and everything is _blue._  “I do think we can make this work.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much if you got all the way down here! Was this kudos worthy? :3


End file.
